


I thought I’d wait for you

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Post-Break Up, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Even without a signature, she had recognized the words as Tom’s at once despite Stanley making her clear all history months ago, despite demanding that she delete him from her contacts and pretending it had been her choice all along. In her eyes, it might as well have been, for she had been part of that choice to break up, yet now that Tom was asking to be invited back into her life, she knew not even her shame and remorse would keep her from it. And not even Stanley.What if Tom did not know that Becky had a new boyfriend when he came back from war? A little cutesy what-if with a heavy dose of angst.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	I thought I’d wait for you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic tries to portray the abuse Becky suffered accurately, however it’s only a few months into her dating Stanley and there is no physical abuse described. It does, however, feature verbal abuse. I would also like to highlight that when I make comments about Becky blaming herself in the text, this is her mindset as someone who has been manipulated into hating herself and not at all my own point of view.

_Would you like to have coffee with me on Friday, 4PM at Beanie's? I've just come back and I would love to see you again._

The text caught her unguarded the third week of nursing school. Becky had no expected Tom to reach out again - a part of her had expected he would never be back at all, that he had abandonned her and their town for good the day he had shipped to Iraq. Another part of her thought that it was foolish to think she could ever welcome back into her life what she had left behind so wilingly. One by one her friends had dropped her already and her family was no longer so close since she had moved out without their permission, and Becky couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was the punishment for her own damning mistakes. And if she had lost many already, why should Tom come back to her good side?

The front door slammed shut and Becky startled. She was not yet used to this, the fear that came with every surprise at home, every creak and crack around the apartment she had not foreseen. Every day came with its lot, yet she could never accept that this was the way her life had become. Wherever Stanley went, he sowed terror and she could not yet keep a steady head about it. Maybe one day she would - and if she didn't, then she would have herself to blame for the weakness.

"What are you looking at?" He frowned.

Her fingers were numb around her phone and her mouth was suddenly dry, her mind hazy. He was in a mood again, though perhaps if she assuaged him, she would be saved. Perhaps she could play the part and he might just follow along. She no longer asked where it was that he was gone when she came back to an empty home, rather she enjoyed it while it lasted. It was always much too short-lived for her comfort.

"Nothing," she muttered.

His eyes were narrow with suspicion as he crashed on the couch next to her, always taking up a little bit of the space she was already occupying, pushing her to the side uncomfortably. Always showing her that wherever she was, he would be too, inevitably. She shoved the phone under her lap to hide it from him.

"What the fuck is it?" He asked again.

She never quite knew if he could actually see through her or if he was simply always on the lookout for a reason to scold and punish her.

" _Nothing_ ," she insisted a little bolder.

There was always a line to thread, not showing herself too weak that he would mob in on her, but not too fierce that he would take her down a notch. She tried to be affectionate instead to distract him, cuddle against him, but Stanley kept a cold shoulder and nudged her off of him.

"Go get me a beer," he said, bored.

In the kitchen, Becky reread the text several times to memorize every word and especially the number. Even without a signature, she had recognized the words as Tom’s at once despite Stanley making her clear all history months ago, despite demanding that she delete him from her contacts and pretending it had been her choice all along. In her eyes, it might as well have been, for she had been part of that choice to break up, yet now that Tom was asking to be invited back into her life, she knew not even her shame and remorse would keep her from it. And not even Stanley. She deleted the text.

"Here," she told him as she passed him a beer. "I’ll go and revise some notes, classes were crazy today and…"

"Give me your phone."

If she pretended well enough, then he might be less angry, and she never wanted him mad at her. Without so much as a sign of protest, she passed him her phone and even from their room as she studied she heard his sighs of disappointment. He did like to have a reason to punish her. It was this twisted game he played, finding every cause to nitpick whatever she was doing. Even though she submitted and admitted defeat at every turn, he still found a reason. Sometimes, it was better to let him find some small fault than to let him imagine a bigger one when he found none.

"You know I don’t like your mom," he called out from the couch. "She coddles you too much, she doesn’t treat you right. Why do you keep texting her?"

"You’re right," she replied. "I’ll stop. Sorry, Stan."

"Yeah, right."

At school, she asked a classmate to borrow her phone. She was well liked by the other students, who knew her to be reliable and ever courteous. It took a lot of smiling to keep up appearances of nothing amiss. At home or at school, she was hiding a part of herself. Putting forward such fractured parts of herself was starting to make her feel all the more broken, yet she still kept herself stitched together for the world to see.

"It’s just for a quick text," she promised. "I’m so sorry, I forgot mine at home."

"Sure, Becca, go ahead," the girl replied with a smile and passed Becky her phone. Being on good terms with everyone did have its perks, acts of kindness repaid when Becky needed them. That had never worked on Stanley, though.

Only a few words to confirm the time and place and she felt so very light, yet crippled with guilt. Tom shot a text back to express his excitement to meet up and the lightness won over the shame. She gave her classmate her phone back.

The next day, she constructed as mundane a lie as she could to dupe Stanley. The best of lies weren’t the most outrageous ones but the boring ones, the ones that were too natural to stick out. School was the best of covers. Her schedule still settling in at the beginning of the year, there was a lot she could hide in the flexible hours of a flimsy schedule and Stanley was none the smarter when at exactly 4 PM on Friday Becky crossed the door to Beanie’s.

Tom’s face was sunlight and everything charming and good still left in the world. He was the same as last year − yet he wasn’t, not entirely. Beyond the hair cropped short, only now starting to grow again, there was something dark about him, a gloominess that was nothing like the joyful Tom she remembered. A fire gone from his gaze, though it was kindled back to a small fame when she sat in front of him.

"Hey," she told him, ignoring the dread in her guts that she would be noticed here, that someone would tell on her. "Is this for me?"

He pushed the paper cup even further to her side of the table − he was beaming.

"Y-Yes, rooibos, right?" She nodded, smiling. Memories of him picking her up in the morning with her order already in the cup holder, just cooled down enough for her to drink comfortably before school. "Becky, you… you look great."

More than anything, this made her heart swell up with joy. She often felt like a shadow of herself these days, ever since she had moved in with Stanley a few weeks after turning 18, but in Tom’s eyes she was the exact same Becky who had given him the most loving farewells when they had gone different paths. Together now at this table, their roads had joined again.

"Thanks," she replied and took a sip of tea. "So do you."

Tom tapped his fingers on the table nervously, besides himself with the compliment.

"Thanks."

She did not have much time, and whatever she had seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye here with him. They talked without a hitch, like their breakup had only happened in a bad dream, like nothing was different since they had last seen each other. She mentioned going to nursing school, but said nothing of Stanley − if there was a next time, she would, she promised herself. For now, she was too content being here with him, too light and happy to let herself become what Stanley had made of her again. She noticed that Tom said nothing at all of his time deployed and she did not press him. The war was ever on the news − she did not need his word to know the horrors of it.

"Hey, erm," he said with the most adorable begging eyes she so loved on him. "I’d love to… I mean, can we see each other again? I’d love for us to just…"

She knew what he meant to ask. She knew she had a boyfriend and could not give him the answer he wanted. Boldly, she reached to touch his hand and her heart was aflutter when Tom clasped their hands together, his thumb stroking her palm. She had forgotten what it was like to be treated with tenderness. She gulped painfully and smiled to hide she wanted to cry.

"Are you free next week at the same time?" She asked. She did not want to break his heart, nor hers. "I’m busy during the week, school and everything…"

It was a white lie, hardly a lie at all but not the whole truth. Already she was scared of going home and pretending to Stanley that her heart had not been reawakened, that she was still the same beaten down Becky that had left her home in the morning.

"That sounds great," Tom replied. "Thank you, Beck. I… really missed you."

Her breath hitched but she pretended she was alright. She was used to that, wasn’t she?

"I missed you too," she muttered and left Beanie’s before she betrayed herself more.

She thought she saw suspicion in everything Stanley said or did that night. He was eyeing her in corner, every step she took across their apartment, every little thing she did. He couldn’t have known, could he? She had erased all traces of texting from her phone and she had given no sign of the bliss she had felt all week thinking about Tom. Even now, she was acting exactly like usual, but then Stanley often did like to suspect her of anything and everything just for the sake of it, just for keeping her on the edge. There was sense in everything he did, but the rules were ever changing and always, always in his favor. He never punished her without a reason − and when she gave him no reason, he prodded and bullied her till he found one.

"Why are you like this?" He asked, grumbling.

She was serving him dinner. She worked and studied more than full time combined, yet Stanley expected her to clean and cook for him and it was easier to comply than to rebel. She wondered if this also was her fault, she who had always tried to be serviceable to everyone around. Perhaps it might help, sometimes, to be a little more selfish, but she did not know how.

"What do you mean?"

He munched mindlessly on the food. His pale eyes were piercing, threatening. Already, she thought this was a bad night. There were no good nights, not really, only nights when they got along uneventfully and she feared for the days to come. But there were nights that were undoubtedly bad, and Becky could only hope to sway the balance one way or another if she managed to cajole him back to her good graces.

"You look… I dunno. You’re hiding something."

She forced herself to smile. Without asking, Stanley helped himself to another beer, which he drank in a long gulp and let out a loud sigh when he was done.

"What the fuck are you hiding from me, then?"

"Stanley, you’ve drunk enough, you’re seeing things," she said softly. "I’m not hiding anything."

"So you think I’m lying?" He wolfed down a large forkful − he had always eaten so disgustingly, even back before she knew the true Stanley. "Fucking cunt."

The entire dinner, he pushed her always more. Becky denied, lied through her teeth. She knew it would anger him to know she had seen Tom again. Several times in the past, he had forced her to denounce him, to delete everything she had left of him, to throw away whatever tokens of their relationship she’d still had left. He had called her names for having had another man before him. If he ever knew that Tom Houston was part of this, she feared what he would do to seek revenge.

"Stanley, please," she begged him finally and she realized she was almost in tears. "Just drop it, okay? I’m telling you, I’ve got nothing to hide!"

He pushed her out of his way as he went back to his couch, the spot where the cushion dipped from him sitting there all night every night, and most days too. Becky rubbed her elbow painfully.

"I don’t know why you have to make things difficult for us, Rebecca," he told her from the other room. "You start acting crazy, then you’re all surprised when I ask you why. Come here and make up."

The last thing she wanted to do was to cuddle against him after a fight. No, she corrected herself, the _very_ last thing she wanted was to anger him any further. She sat with him on the couch and pretended she was not repulsed when he wrapped his arm around the shoulder and kissed her. He smelled like beer and sweat and she bit back her tears and did as he pleased.

Tom was over the moon when she saw him again the next week. A year wasn’t much, she tried to tell herself, but this one without him had been an eternity and there was no doubt that he had grown more than the few months apart since they had split. He was more mature, more quiet − he who had never been so clamorous to begin with. She noticed that he seemed to be letting a beard grow, for he had more stubble than the week prior. He was wearing a flannel she had seen on his father before. War had made him grow beyond his years.

"I have to tell you something," she said after they had sat together at a table in the corner − this time, perpendicular to one another. She wondered if the next time they’d be outright side by side, though she supposed that after what she had to say, that was unlikely.

Tom smiled and nodded her expectantly. He was leaning on an elbow, his face in the curve of his palm as though in complete admiration. Becky breathed in deeply. She loathed to break his heart, but she knew she had to. Duty did not make it any easier. She stirred sugar into her tea and looked down as she spoke.

"I… I have a boyfriend." In the corner of her eyes, she saw his arm drop to the table and she bit her lip. "We’ve been dating for ten months. Stanley Spencer, I don’t know if you know him…"

She knew that he didn’t, for Stanley would have used this against her if the two of them had ever met. When she looked up, she caught only a glimpse of how crestfallen Tom was until he straightened himself and put on a blank polite face.

"Oh…" He drank a sip of his coffee. "What’s he like?"

She realized how much she still loved him in this instant, how kind his reaction. Tom had always had a gentle soul and he never wished her ill, not even when her choices pained him. If only he knew how much her choice had pained her, too…

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!"

The voice clamored across the shop and all heads snapped to the entrance where Stanley stood. People began to whisper between each other and Becky’s blood turned icy cold. She felt sweat drip down her back uncomfortably and she wondered if this was the last she would see of Tom for the rest of her days. However long that would be.

"I GAVE YOU A CHANCE TO CONFESS, BUT YOU HAD TO GO BE A TWO TIMING SLUT BEHIND MY BACK. STAND THE FUCK UP, WE’RE GOING HOME."

At once, Tom stood in front of her protectively, urging Becky to stay just where she was. Stanley had walked up to them by now and the baristas were looking at him warily, trying to determine how exactly they were supposed to get out a furious yelling man. They were two college students barely older than Becky herself − she recognized them from school. Even Tom looked so much younger than Stanley in this instant, even if they were only four years apart. He was shorter and Stanley loomed over him with clenched fists.

"You’re lucky I don’t fucking kill you," Stanley hissed to Becky behind Tom. It was as though he did not want to address him − Tom was shorter, but he was broad in the shoulders and his time at war had made him tougher than iron. "Come, we’re going home and you’ll see just how much you like being a whore."

He made to reach behind Tom to grab her, but Tom seized his wrist with a grip as strong as his resolve.

" _Don’t touch her._ "

His voice was as calm as Stanley was animated with hate. Becky was terrified for Tom so much more than for herself. She could take on Stanley − or if she couldn’t, at least she had more experience there. But Tom was still so hurt and tired from his time out there and he had fought too much for a lifetime. Tears pearled at her eyes and she rubbed them away. Stanley hated to see her cry.

"She’s still _my_ girlfriend, you fuckface," Stanley said. "You’re just dipping your dick while you can but she’s coming home with _me_."

"She’ll come if she wants to, and I don’t see her moving an inch."

Stanley threw the first punch at him and people gasped all around. For a few seconds, Tom swayed into place almost cartoonishly, but he caught himself and the fight was on. Stanley fought to harm, to hurt, to claim possession of her with all the strength of his just like he did at home. Tom was stronger than her, though, and he did prove stronger than Stanley. He fought to protect, much more to stop Stanley than to fan the fire. Another fist in Tom’s eye and she heart a crack and cried out, but Tom never flinched. Grabbing Stanley’s wrist again, he twisted it to pin him into place in front of him, his arms locked behind his back. The two men were panting.

"All that for unfaithful pussy, heh?" Stanley snorted. "You’re fucking crazy."

But Tom’s grasp on his arms only tightened and he whimpered painfully.

"Don’t you ever talk about her like that again."

He pushed him forward and Stanley landed numbly on the ground face first. He tried to catch himself with his hands but his wrist was already aching from how Tom had grabbed it and he groaned, clutching his hands in front of him.

If Tom had been anything like Stanley, he would have demanded she picked a side and he would have basked in the victory of having won over his opponent. Precisely because Tom demanded nothing from her, she was all the more willing to give him her affection and naturally, she flocked to his side freely to check on the black eye that was starting to form. His face was red and sweaty and he blinked as though remembering she had been here the whole time. Stanley was taken out of Beanie’s by several different patrons rushing to drag him out the door and Becky watched him leave, barely believing it. Tom looked at her.

"Becky…"

Her phone started to buzz and she had no need to check the sender to know the nature of the calls. She realized how hard she was shaking only when Tom helped her sit back down again. One of the baristas trotted to their table.

"Hey, erm… Should we like, call the police, or… ?"

She shook her head. Tom had been waiting for her answer and his shoulders sagged with relief. She wondered if he had been afraid to get taken in, too, if authorities were to investigate. He had witnesses on his side, but she knew all too well that justice was not always paid to those who deserved it.

"A’ight, I’ll go get you something, you look… a little out of it, no offense."

When she was gone, Tom leaned over to talk to Becky in a soft low voice.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked. "How can I help?"

Becky stared. Her mind usually so vivid was as cloudy as a puff of smoke and she blinked a few times.

"I don’t suppose you’ll want a ride home…"

She thought of Stanley and shuddered.

"No, he’ll be furious, I… I don’t wanna go back."

Tom tried to smile reassuringly.

"Beck, you don’t have to. You never have to go back."

She looked at him. Even broken and hurt as he was, he was as handsome and as warm as sunlight and she threw herself into his arms for a hug. He had always been such a solace to her − why had she ever forgotten that?

"Here you go, hun," the barista said, patting her shoulder as she served Becky a hot chocolate and a small plate of cookies. Becky wondered if she had known, perhaps, of Stanley’s nature before today. She wondered how many people in Hatchetfield knew.

"Thank you," she said in a shy voice that hardly seemed to belong to her.

She was struggling to think clear and Tom did not press her on. He was watching her with all the goodness in the world and even after they had parted from the hug, his thumb was still stroking her hand gently on the table. She ate a cookie and tried to calm herself down.

"He and I, we, erm… we started going out a while ago, not long after you left. He’s been like this for most of it, I…" She sighed. "I don’t know what I thought."

"It’s okay," he said softly. He squeezed her hand. "Hey. Hey, I’m sorry he said any of that to you. You don’t deserve that, that’s not okay."

She was scared and ashamed to tell him the extent of it, everything Stanley had done to her. Everything he had said, the person he had turned her into. She didn’t want to ruin herself in Tom’s eyes.

"Do you want me to go get your stuff from his place?" He asked after a while.

She snorted bitterly. She wanted to sob. If they had not been in public, she would have, but she had learned to keep up the façade quite well the past few months.

"He’ll have destroyed half of it by the time you do."

Tom nodded anyways.

"I’ll go get it. What else can I do? Look, if you need a place to stay, we have a guest room, or maybe you have friends, or your parents… Whatever you need."

She loved him so very much. She always had, she always would, but every passing moment with him, she loved him a little more. A lot more.

"Can I just spend the night at your parents," she asked timidly, "And then tomorrow I’ll figure everything out? I’m a little… numb, I think."

Tom pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Works for me."

At his place, the Houstons were nothing if not perfectly welcoming. It was as though she was their own daughter come home after a long journey and not the girl who had broken up with their son.

"Becky!" His mom cried out in surprise. "What a pleasure to… What happened to your face, young man?!"

She was suddenly in a flurry between inviting Becky in as warmly as ever and fussing over her son’s beaten face.

"It’s fine," Tom said and if she wasn’t feeling so strange herself, Becky would have adored the way he tried to fence her off and play strong. He was, now as ever, steadfast as she had always known him. "Mom, I promise, it barely hurts."

Still, he groaned with relief when his mother produced an ice pack and applied it to the puffy black eye. She turned to Becky and smiled.

"Well, I won’t suppose _you_ did this, sweetie."

"Of course she didn’t!" He coughed and his mother gently patted his back to soothe him. "Hey, can Becky stay over tonight?"

Under the curious look Mrs Houston gave the two of them, Becky felt all the more vulnerable. The past few months, she had felt like her life was out of her grasp − tonight, it was in Tom’s. She knew that was better than in Stanley’s, but she craved to regain full control of it. For now, she was a little shaken and she tried to smile as Mrs Houston stared at her quizzically. She was expecting an explanation that neither Tom nor Becky ever gave.

"Naturally," she replied eventually. Suddenly, she stood and messed with Tom’s short curls. "I’m going to make tea and while I’m busy, you two can make up a story of whatever it is that happened to your eye, love. Becky, I’m so happy to see you again."

Tom and Becky did not exchange a word while she was away in the kitchen. She sat next to him on the couch and grasped the ice pack from his hands, applying it on the beaten eye with all the tenderness she felt for him. She touched his cheek, still burning up from the fight even now, still red − or was that for another reason? He smiled at her and their hands touched over his cheek as he kept her there. She smiled back.

"You’re in luck," Mrs Houston told Becky when she came back in the living room to sit with them and serve tea. "I made cookies for Tommy the other day but there’s still plenty left. Here, have your fill."

All night long, she was especially doting on the both of them and Becky felt transported in time to those years not at all long ago when this place, these people had been such a major part of her life. She did not know what she had done to deserve another chance. Even between her and her own parents, some distance had grown since Stanley, yet here she was at the Houstons and they welcomed her back like she was a missing fourth piece of the family. During dinner, the dog came to rest under her chair, his face a fuzzy blanket over her feet.

They did not ask questions. Becky wasn’t certain she would have been able to answer them. Like father, like son, Tom’s dad was stoic and quiet and he asked no more than Becky’s general wellbeing and what she was doing with her life. Even that was a question she was not certain she could answer herself, though she replied politely with some details about nursing school. He nodded and asked no more. Most of the evening was spent with Tom’s mom making chipper conversation with her son, who gave sparse but sincere answers.

"I’ll go make Becky’s bed in the guest room," he said once dinner was over.

His mom stopped him right in his tracks. She had always been the doting type, but especially today, there seemed to be nothing Tom wanted to do that she would let him. Becky supposed that his parents too much have missed him cruelly in the months he had been away.

"No, don’t you move a finger, honey," she said and kissed the top of his head. "I’ll be right back."

Tom’s father was watching the news on TV, but switched channels when came news of the war. Under the table, Tom reached for her hand and entwined their fingers together. They looked at each other and smiled. She felt almost normal.

At night, she sank into the mattress of the guest room, wearing one of Tom’s old pajamas, and she stared at the ceiling. It had been a very long day and she was exhausted, yet she found that she could not sleep. The emotions were slowly starting to catch up with her and she did not know whether she wanted to cry or to laugh. She realized that for the first time in many months, she did not feel afraid. She felt warm and comfortable and so very confused. Today seemed to have belonged to another Rebecca Barnes, one who made better choices, one who had a head on her shoulders, and she was trying to trust this new version of herself she barely remembered.

The floorboards creaked softly under her weight across the hall. She had been here so many times she could have found the way in utter darkness. There was a thin strip of light marking the edges of Tom’s door. He was not sleeping yet.

"Hey Tommy," she whispered, pushing the door open as quietly as she could.

Even now, she would loathe to anger his parents if they were to find her here, though they had never blinked an eye for such things before. What her life had used to be like, fearless and free… Perhaps, one night at a time, she could hope to rebuild it to the likeness of the past.

"How are you?" She asked. His eye had only gotten darker and more puffy as the day had progressed, even with the balm his mother had applied. "Does it hurt a lot?"

He shrugged. He had been so brave for her, beaten to the core and still willing to fight.

"Been worse."

She sat on his bed next to him. His nightstand lamp was on, but he had been lying there idly, no phone or book or anything else in sight. Perhaps just as lost as she was. Careful not to touch the bruise, her palm cupped his cheek, her fingers combed his hair, and Tom looked deeply into her eyes with a kindness she thought she had forgotten. She had missed that.

"I can’t sleep," she admitted.

Tom’s hand covered hers for a moment till he scooted back against the wall and lifted the bedsheets in invitation. Becky glanced back at the door and hoped not to get caught, but somehow she was certain that even if it came to that, the risk would be little more than a scolding. After what she had endured already, she was certain she could never feel the same true terror here, not at the Houstons'. She slid under the covers and rested her head against his shoulder at the headboard, her face in the crook of his neck. Tom wrapped an arm around her waist. He was so warm, so gentle with her. She felt a kiss on top of her hair and fell asleep to the most restful night she could remember.


End file.
